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 Oct 2017 Mona
Saint Audrey
Square
 Oct 2017 Mona
Saint Audrey
Holed up in a closet with half a pint or so
Too slowly disheartening for the time it takes
And far too enigmatic for the plans I've yet to make
Yet I move with every atom drawn emancipated

Yet the context of neurons
And bitter sweet memory all a fabrication
Another thin layer of nostalgia to force feed the sleeping beast
And even as I disregard, it comes up through the latency so brazen
Another helpless mess of chemicals to feast upon

Boring

A **** shame as well
Charismatic yet moments away from being half adjusted
Using every empty vow of justice to reciprocate
He must've mustered every ounce of faith based forgery
And the internal jury applauds

All is for naught, but drowning in waste deep
Self pity is for suckers
I can drown in less than half an inch

Selfishness is only realized once
Pride stops you from making friends
Maybe the fear hits nearer to home
Reopen its wounds like the case that lay dormant but provable
Felonious though it may be once you disregard empathy
You know he did

And yet it bleeds

Still it moves

Cognition taken for granted, but by who?
Sure, the long since departed had so much to lose
But If with every passing breath they would've ****** down oxygen
With the same callousness he possessed
When cutting off their heads

Doesn't the burden fall on you as well...
Sending a man to hell is no easy task

Bask in the grace you made for yourself
Bending the page with ink that you've layerd
With blood and homage to past ruling lieges
That murdered their wives for no ******* reason

Tragedy only strikes in pairs
Taking the same heads off twice
One visible, the other not so much
Squares
 Sep 2017 Mona
Chris Thomas
I set my pen down
To watch the sunrise
Staring at me through folds of clouds
I glimpsed visions of my children
Dancing along the horizon
Like butterflies across the meadow
I felt a kind of humming
Deep within my chest
Made of baritone and brokenness
And soon, the realization set in
That my softly-beating heart
Was simply strumming at tight strings
Creating melodies of yesterday
Improvising the pain yet to come
And saving room for an encore
So, I picked my pen up
From the cedar-scented table
And once more, spilled my broken soul
 Aug 2017 Mona
Mike Hauser
Ugly
 Aug 2017 Mona
Mike Hauser
Over the years
it's plain to see
I've lost most things
but my ugly

Most folks I know
would agree
Ugly has always
looked good on me

Ain't no sense
trying to figure out
How all this ugly
came to come about

Or how it is
the only thing
That has ever really
stuck with me

Lost most my mind
and all my shape
Not enough math Pi
and too much cake

The hardest thing
that is to fake
Is the face of ugly
I face every day
I should include that I don't consider myself ugly but neither am I beautiful! Lol! I was just thinking that the older I get the more of my youthfulness seems to disappear and this poem came to mind.
 Aug 2017 Mona
Cné
the fall
 Aug 2017 Mona
Cné
when i fall,
i don't just fall in love.
clumsily, i stumble
down and then i land

awkwardly and graceless,
stuttering utterly at the foot
of a handsome man,

blundering an apology
out of breath, ineptly
embarrassed about
my shaky hands,

clambering
to dust myself off,
all the while, i try,
desperately, to stand

wishing i could disappear,
i rise as quickly as i can
waving off any helping hand

so he doesn't see
how incredibly stupid
i must be
Doh
 Jul 2017 Mona
Onoma
Correspondence
 Jul 2017 Mona
Onoma
writing with
both hands...
to sync the
mind with a
loss of
meaning.
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